


Real People

by GealachGirl



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Atmospheric semi-fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Romance, Slow Dancing, The Rituals Are Intricate, Wedding Receptions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:26:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21799843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GealachGirl/pseuds/GealachGirl
Summary: Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips, we should just kiss like real people do.The room is warm and unreal and Brad makes his move
Relationships: Brad Colbert/Ray Person
Comments: 5
Kudos: 61





	Real People

**Author's Note:**

> In response to all the bullshit in the world and my personal frustration at it, I'm finally posting this thing I wrote a long time ago because I need something good and sure. And what better than BradRay?

It was warm, in a slow, comfortable way. The overhead lights in the reception hall were dimmed, and the lamps brought out to illuminate the corners of the room were part of the heat.

The hum of people talking all over the room, mixed with all of the food smells were part of the heat. The laughter and affection swirling through the room as people congratulated Walt or his new wife, or simply greeted old friends were part of it, too.

The champagne flute in his hand had contributed to a lot of his personal heat.

But it was really the dance floor and the press of people on it.

It hadn’t been empty once, from the moment it was first set up, and Brad didn’t think he’d seen Ray step a foot off it all night.

Every time a song ended, another relative of some kind or a friend crowded up to him and captured his attention and pulled him back into the beat. Brad could tell he was sweating, maybe flagging a little bit, but the grin on his face and the loose way his body moved told him he was having the time of his life.

Brad watched and didn’t think about anything else but the warmth of the room and the snippets of conversation that drifted over him. Every time his thoughts wandered, he pulled them firmly back, focusing on what he could physically feel instead of what he wanted. 

Ray was laughing, charming everyone he talked to, and he looked vibrant while doing it. He swept kids and old ladies, bridesmaids and groomsmen around the floor, and Brad focused on the way the alcohol made his face flush.

A noise on the other side of his room dragged his attention in that direction, and he felt a fog lift.

Poke quirked an eyebrow at him and grabbed a glass of water from another table, pushing it into Brad’s hand. “What the fuck, man?” he asked.

Brad glared.

“You know what I’m talking about. You look like you’re in some kind of trance. Or like you’re overheating.” He grinned at his next thought right before he shared it. “Is the Iceman melting?”

“I can assure you,” Brad said, “you aren’t as funny as you think you are.” And he followed Poke’s progression around the table, turning his face away from the dancers.

Poke tipped his head to the side, conceding. “I’ll give you that, but it is fucking hilarious you can’t pull yourself together for one evening. At a wedding reception, no less.” He shook his head and leaned back in his chair, taking a pull of his beer. “It’s sad, dog.”

Brad considered arguing or demanding Poke explain, but he decided it would be more pathetic to pretend like that.

Poke didn’t know everything, but he’d noticed the way Brad’s eyes had taken to following Ray across a camp in the desert and then rooms when they were all back stateside. And, being Poke, he’d instantly told Brad he was a dumbass and the saddest sight he’d ever seen.

Then he’d sat down beside him and poked light-hearted, semi-supportive fun about the possibility of Brad ever making a move. Or if Ray would have to do it first. What kind of couple they could possibly make. How so incredibly fucked Brad was. And, once, after a lot of drinks and on the tail-end of a week of sleep-deprivation, how the two of them would probably work so well they’d be together until they died.

Brad went back and forth between appreciating it and being embarrassed.

Because what Poke didn’t know was how Ray helped calm the storm of thoughts in Brad’s head, and that constant push to do more, try harder, not disappoint. He didn’t know that Brad was the only one who could bring Ray’s smile back from the pit, the only one Ray talked to when he pulled away from other people.

Poke observed what they did for each other and how their dynamic worked on a surface level, but he didn’t know just how deep it went. But the truth was Brad had never found someone who understood him the way Ray did. And it had ignited something Brad had long thought burned out.

But he put up with the teasing. Because it was tolerable when the alternative was keeping it all totally to himself.

“Look, I’m just saying that you can’t sit here and stare at him all night,” Poke said. “You’ve got to have a better strategy than that.”

“I do,” Brad sighed. It didn’t mean he was going to act on it, though. They were in public and he wasn’t convinced Ray’s best friend’s wedding reception was the right place for it.

Poke didn’t look like he believed him. “Person’s not that complicated, dude.” Another thing Poke didn’t know. “You have to be smooth about it, but you don’t have to give it layers.”

He was probably right about that.

The song shifted overhead and Ray was hauled into another dance, this time with a group, and Brad really had to give him stamina points. Poke’s expression suggested he agreed. And then Gina swept in and pulled Poke to his feet.

“Just keep it in mind, dawg,” he said as he was dragged toward the dance floor. Brad recognized the song vaguely, knew enough that it was a popular crowd song at places like wedding receptions when the focus shifted more to the party than the romance.

Brad watched and wondered what it would take to get him out of his chair. It sure as fuck wouldn’t be an obnoxious group dance. If he was going to get up, it would be for one-on-one.

And then a miracle happened.

The song shifted, to another loud group thing, and Ray found a way to slip off the dance floor. Out from under the lights, the sweat on his forehead and the way his chest heaved was even more obvious. His tie was completely undone and Ray tugged it off his shoulder like he was surprised it hadn’t disappeared yet. He stuffed it in his pocket instead and collapsed into the nearest chair.

Brad tightened his hand around his water and left the table. Ray was still watching the dancers so he didn’t notice Brad approach until he touched the glass of water to the back of his hand.

In a moment Ray had turned around and brightened. His eyes landed on the water then and he downed it in a few deep pulls. Brad pulled out a chair while he waited for Ray to come back up.

“You’re a life saver, Colbert,” he said, and his voice was a little hoarse and still dry.

“I try my best,” Brad replied, leaning back in his chair.

Ray let out a deep, long breath and Brad raised an eyebrow. Ray just gestured expansively.

“I can’t believe my best friend got himself married,” he said. “And they pulled it off, look at this goddamn place.” Brad glanced around like he hadn’t been looking at the room carefully enough to have it memorized at this point.

Walt’s eyes were shining and the grin he’d had at the altar hadn’t disappeared, but transformed into different shapes over the last couple hours. His wife looked the same way. Brad couldn’t remember the last time someone looked at him like that.

He and Ray watched the dancers for a few more loud songs, and then it slowed down again. Ray’s breathing had gone back to normal and he wasn’t nearly as red anymore.

That’s when Brad stood and offered his hand to Ray, palm up.

Ray only needed a moment to process what Brad was asking and a small, wondering smile bloomed. An eyebrow quirked, too.

Still, he accepted Brad’s hand and rose to his feet. The other eyebrow lifted as Brad led the way to the very edge the dance floor, but he avoided answering it.

Until he couldn’t. Ray’s face didn’t suggest he was going to push it yet, though.

So Brad pulled him into position at the edge of the dance floor and Ray followed. The lights washed over them, but just barely, and Brad didn’t think anyone had noticed their favorite dance partner had returned. Not that it mattered. No one was cutting in.

“Do you know how to box step?” he asked in a low voice. Ray’s head tipped to the side.

“And here I thought we’d just do the awkward middle school sway,” he said. Brad almost pulled back to adjust for that, but Ray held onto him tighter and stepped backward, dragging Brad with him.

And then they were dancing, shifting to the steady sweep of the music, and turning a little bit. They were definitely taking up more than their fair share of room — the box step wasn’t exactly subtle — but it didn’t matter.

Brad was leading, because he was taller, and Ray matched him move for move as they turned in a small circle.

For the first time, the heat faded away and Brad couldn’t feel the flush in his cheeks.

It was like a different spell had been cast, something that dispelled that hot, heavy air from earlier, and it didn’t matter that they were taking up so much space. They were the only people on the dancefloor. In the room.

Brad supposed he should be surprised by how easily they found and followed the rhythm, but that would mean not believing he and Ray had always been on the same frequency.

And Brad didn’t have enough evidence for that.

Ray’s hand was steady and warm in his, and Brad could admit he was a little surprised their bodies were so in tune with each other. And when they moved closer, they were even more so. And then it wasn’t surprising at all.

Brad could feel the way Ray’s muscles shifted in his back, from the shoulders down his lower back, and he imagined doing it in other contexts.

In this light, Ray practically glowed and Brad stared shamelessly. And Ray stared right back.

His gaze was intense, and it matched the way he held onto Brad’s shoulder, like he was drinking everything in. But it wasn’t desperate. If anything, Ray looked more at ease now than he had all night. Something about his posture had softened.

Their dancing continued into another song and they didn’t miss a beat.

Looking at him, Brad could tell Ray was thinking about other contexts though, too.

This new song was still good for their dancing, but it was soft and sweet. A little lighter than the drama of the slow ballad that preceded it.

They moved a little closer, and Brad thought about more than their bodies. He thought about how they could spend time together in perfect silence and enjoy it. He thought about how he didn’t just like being with Ray because he’d gotten used to it in the Humvee.

Brad thought about how nice it was to just be with Ray. To have him to glance at when things happened. To know Brad could bring up anything and Ray would at least entertain it. To have Ray’s strings of ideas bounced off him, less unhinged when he wasn’t high.

The song was building to its bridge and the final run-through of its chorus. Brad didn’t really know what he was doing until they were moving flush together, hips to chest. And like that, they were moving faster, still in tune with the beat but now matching the emotion, too.

Brad lifted the hand holding Ray’s and Ray ducked under it without a second thought. Then he turned and tugged on Brad’s arm, pulling him back in so they were back to the position they’d been in before.

Overhead, the song was closing and Ray tilted his head to the side. The lights from the different sources around the room were reflected in his eyes, and they even shone off his teeth as he grinned up at Brad. There was something teasing in his expression, but Brad couldn’t quite make it out in the dark. Because it was teasing shaded with something else.

“The rituals sure are intricate, aren’t they?” he asked. Brad raised an eyebrow, and Ray rolled his eyes just a little. He nodded at their hands, and the overall way their bodies were still pressed together, radiating heat and bouncing it right back. Like this, Brad could actually feel Ray’s diaphragm move against his stomach.

“This is all quite the romantic gesture, don’t you think?”

Every thought in Brad’s head turned into a crashing car. That probably wasn’t an appropriate way to conceptualize the situation in his head when his underlying emotion was mostly excitement. But when he balanced it with the almost equal parts dread, it all made more sense.

And the way the thoughts piled up, one on top of the other and in conflicting shapes and sizes, added more support to the metaphor.

Brad wasn’t buried in it, though. He was standing just to the side, a bystander who had a perfect view of the crash, and everything around it. So, he saw the quick flash of doubt that flitted over Ray’s expression, and the hesitation that crept into his eyes.

Ray was about to say something else, and judging by the way he suddenly changed his body language — put it together, and, as a result, just slightly farther away from Brad — suggested it would be a joke to downplay what came before.

There was only one way to interfere with that. Ray had never listened to Brad telling him to shut up.

Instead, Ray could only make a surprised sound, muffled against Brad’s lips. And he didn’t resist. Pushed closer, instead. Tightened his fingers on Brad’s jacket even after he got over his shock.

In return, Brad took the hand on Ray’s back to his cheek and brought their tangled hands closer to their bodies.

Eventually, they thought about oxygen again.

Brad looked and saw nothing around them had changed. They were still on the edge of the dance floor, where the shadows mixed with the dim light, and no one had noticed them.

Internally though…

Brad’s chest felt lighter, and the pressing heat from earlier had dissipated. And now he wasn’t absently wanting.

Now he had Ray’s chest pressed against his and a tingling feeling on his lips. And Ray was smiling at him like he’d gotten everything he wanted.

For the first time all night, the room felt real and he felt like part of it.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the Hozier song. Do I know why? No. Do I know how the song relates to this fic? Also no. 
> 
> Anyway, after this, they go to whoever’s hotel room and have sex and live happily ever after.


End file.
